


Unread On Clever Napkins

by singularentity



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 10:36:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17506988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singularentity/pseuds/singularentity
Summary: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter are seniors in high school and see each other every morning at the local coffee shop. They lock eyes sometimes, but usually don't interact. Draco knows Harry goes to his school, but Harry barely knows Draco exists. After an accident at the coffee shop, they finally acknowledge each other's existence, and a relationship starts to bloom.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this on Wattpad, and I decided to post the ENTIRE THING here because I found that I liked this platform better. Please be nice, it is my first story on AO3.

There he is again. Always coming in in the mornings. He leaves almost immediately after getting his coffee. I prefer to sit here with a nice cup while I read An Abundance of Katherines by John Green, however, that boy seems to have enough energy to wait standing up, then leave after his name is called.

I know his name, but he doesn't know mine. 

His name is Harry. I may not know his last name, but it's Harry. I know him as that energetic boy who comes into the Weasley's coffee shop every morning.

Today, he is wearing an open button-down shirt with a striped t-shirt underneath. He also wears a pair of skinny, dark-wash jeans and red Converse.

I don't really like him. He is too energetic.

I look up as he turns around, and our eyes meet. I notice that his eyes are too green, and it annoys me. He breaks eye-contact almost immediately and leaves.

I tug my messy white-blonde hair that sticks out of my black beanie as I read a particularly interesting sentence to me. My parents decided that I was to keep my hair blonde, as if they thought I'd dye it some crazy colour. The thing is, I'm too lazy to do so.

I rest my forehead on my hand as I indulge myself in the wonders of modern literature. I realise my music isn't playing, so I fish my phone out of my pocket and lay it on the table. 

I open my phone, then scroll through my dark-looking music library to find a particularly fun album by the Used. I like Lies for the Liars. 

I feel that it is better to shut the world out than let anyone into your life who may hurt you. I don't trust anything or anyone below the sun.

I sigh, getting bored of the chick-flick-type cliches in my book. I reach into the brown leather book bag that I always carry with me, and pull out It by Stephen King. I don't find it frightening at all, but occasionally his books give me chills.

I find myself thinking about that weird dark-haired boy again. I realise he doesn't really go here with any friends, even though he looks like the type to go everywhere with a girl on his arm and a bunch of whooping boys.

I've seen him at school. He does seems to be rather popular, but you don't seem to see him flirting with girls or smoking or looking up girls' skirts. I never really knew why girls liked to wear such short things on their legs. If you look hard enough, you can tell that they spend hours in the bathroom shaving and moisturising their legs. I never understood that, either.

Instead, Harry reads. He reads Jane Austen and Charles Dickens. I like their books, but I'm not exactly one for classics. Don't get me wrong, I do like them, I'm just usually disinclined to read those books. After thinking about it, I decide that I like the fact that he reads.

But I don't like him. He is too energetic.

I close my book and return my cup to the counter, and thank Molly with a smile and a nod. Her sons Ron, Fred, George and her daughter Ginevra also go to my school. They are all read-headed, blue eyed and freckled. 

I don't like them, either, because they are always up in everyone's business. I have no business, therefore no one can be "up in my business".

I walk through the door, which tinkles when I open it. I push my glasses up, and brace myself for the oncoming slaughter of the unnecessary feudal-like socialism in my place of education.

I look down at the outfit I had chosen this morning. I realise how stereotypically "emo" I look. I don't really care. This is my style and I like the way I look. I am wearing a oversized, long-armed black jumper and black jeans that are slitted at the knees. I look down at my all-black Converse as I trudge reluctantly to school.

I enter the gates as the first bell rings, and I avoid eye-contact with everyone and everything. I get bumped and jostled as I make my way to my locker, where I quickly grab my books for English and Maths. I stick a pacer behind my ear and an eraser in my pocket. I leave my book-bag at my hip and go to class, which, of course, has to be located on the other side of the school.

I'm early, so I slide in to my favourite spot in the corner in the back of the classroom. I stare out the window and I decide that it is too sunny and bright today. As the second bell rings, the entire class files in and throws themselves like animals at their chairs. Their movements are coarse and unpredictable.

I don't like them at all.

The teacher, Mr. Lupin, walks in, and shushes everyone. I like Mr. Lupin. He has a lot of charisma and can shut this motley crew of homophobic idiots up with one word. He grins at everyone and tells everyone 'welcome back', because it is Monday and no one really wants to be here, including me. Except that I don't really want to be here any day, but that fact is irrelevant.

Roll-call begins, and whispers begin to circulate around the room. They are going to say something stupid instead of just replying "present" when the teacher calls their name.

Today, it is "crap-balls". I cringe as the first person replies. Then I silently bang my head against the desk as the second person replies. I sit up again as my name is neared.

"Draco Malfoy," Lupin calls. I put my hand in the air. I don't speak. I never speak in front of people. Eyes turn to me, and then flicker away as I sense their silent groaning. Oh yes, Draco Malfoy is here again. Fabulous. I frown to myself, wishing I could just be home-schooled or something.

I work through the work Lupin gives me, and I finish early. I pack up all my things and sit, waiting for the bell to ring. After a minute or so, I stick in my earphones again and play a random album. It is The Black Parade by My Chemical Romance. I laugh to myself inside my mind. I am so stereotypically emo that even I find myself annoying sometimes.

The bell rings, and I sigh in relief. I leave the English classroom first and enter the Maths classroom first. A repeat of English. Cringe. Hand up. Work. Music. Leave.

My life is an endless loop of nonsense.

Recess. The time where socialising is at its peak. I don't like it.

I enjoy holing myself up in the library attic. The librarians had helped me fix up a corner for myself near the big clock in the library roof. I like the library downstairs. It looks nice and modern, and it really is quiet and pleasant. But there are still too many people. So I sit in the attic.

I don't really understand why the teachers are so compliant and nice about my anti-socialness. I've never said a thing, so how would they know that I want these things? I've not talked to my parents since sixth grade, right before I graduated and started going to high school.

I haven't said a single word, and I am a senior now. I ought to be in the Guinness Book of Records or something like that.

"Draco Malfoy, a senior who has not spoken a word for his entire high school career."

I laugh at the thought.

Recess ends. And it's time for class again. I go to my locker and get my books for Art and History. I like Art. It's fun to express things in drawings. I think I'm quite good at sketching. But again, a repeat of English and Maths. Cringe. Hand up. Work. Music. Leave. History, we have a lecture. But it is still another repetition of the endless cycle of boring nonsense.

Nonsense, nonsense, nonsense.

I will for school to be over as Lunch ends after a good, intense reading session. I decided to read Oliver Twist, for some unknown reason. I hate leaving the nook in the attic.

Last period, French. Cringe. Hand up. Work. Music. Leave.

I am proud of myself for getting through today without any mental breakdowns. I return home pretty quickly. The route is pretty simple. I walk across only three roads to get to school (or home, depending on what time it is) , and on the corner of one road is the Weasley's coffee shop, which is closed by now.

I instantly rush into the kitchen and grab a bread roll. I rip it open with my fingers and butter it quickly, before shoving it in my mouth. I bite down on it to keep it there, and I grab the large bottle of iced tea. I pour some into a glass and run out into the corridor. I jump up the stairs two at a time. I open the cupboard next to the second-floor bathroom, and pull the descending ladder down to meet my feet. I climb up and into the attic, which is where I usually reside.

Posters of bands cover the walls and sloped ceiling. Fall Out Boy, Panic! At the Disco, My Chemical Romance, The Used, Taking Back Sunday, Queen, Green Day, David Bowie and Twenty One Pilots stare at me from all sides of my room. A closet stands open, filled with mostly dark clothes and band t-shirts. Next to that closet, a large drawing desk with buckets hanging off the sides, filled with different types of stationary. 

Then my over-large bed. It is comfortable, and the brightest thing in my room. It is filled with pillows and the occasional stuffed animal. Two nightstands are placed on either side of the bed, their tops filled with POP Vinyl Figures and photos of my family and old coffee cups.

There is a TV in the corner with a Xbox 1 and Playstation 4 under it. There are four beanbags. Although, I don't know why there are so many. I don't have any friends and no siblings, so who is there to play video games with me? My parents are too busy to play games with me.

My father works for the government. And my mother is a lawyer. And they go on business trips all the time, so I'm left here alone quite often. I don't mind it, but it does get a little lonely.

I throw myself into a beanbag in front of my TV, and switch on my Playstation. Detroit: Become Human is still in it, so I continue my game. I love Detroit: Become Human. It's an extremely thought-provoking game and it sometimes relies on your instincts.

I play until I'm hungry again, so I go downstairs and make myself dinner. I take out some leftover pasta and leftover bolognese. My parents are on a business trip, and they never cook for me, unless they're home for dinner. These leftovers are a memory of the one occasion where my mother cooked for me. She's an amazing cook. It's a shame neither of my parents are really family people.

I microwave the food and sit down at a chair in the empty dining room. It is a handsome house, and I think I look after it well. But there is no one to praise me or see it, because my family is pretty much non-existent, and as I said before, I have no friends.

As I think about it while I eat, I find myself quite lonely. Then I remember, if this all had been different, maybe I'd be a different person. And I like myself as I am now. I nod to myself. Yes, this is how I like it.

I go to the front door and lock it. All the windows are locked anyway, and the only window that is actually opened at anytime downstairs is a singular one in the lounge room for when I need to air out the house. I go to the back door (that leads out into the backyard) make sure that it is locked, too. I then return to the second floor and I notice, reading the clock on the wall, that it is quite late and I should start getting ready for bed.

I enter the second-floor bathroom and step into the glass-walled shower, then I undress. I throw my clothes over the top of one of the walls, letting them land perfectly on the closed toilet. I silently cheer to myself, then turn on the shower, letting the hot water hit my face and warm my skin. I like showering. It helps me clear my head of ridiculous notions, like love and romance and how far is the next solar system from here and wow, Dora the Explorer was never an explorer.

I finish my shower, then towel myself off. I leave the bathroom naked, as I do when there is no one home. There usually isn't, so most of my time between the bathroom and my bedroom is spent being as nude as the day I was born. 

I snatch my pyjamas from my bed and practically throw them on, and I collapsed onto my bed, and close my eyes, burying myself in my pillows. Everything seemed to fade away.

I wake up suddenly, gasping. I had a pretty odd dream that I can't really remember anymore. I sigh, realising that it was just a dream. I step out onto the floor and grab clothes from my wardrobe, this time choosing a grey jumper with the Green Day hand grabbing the heart grenade, a grey beanie to match, with blue Vans and black ripped jeans. 

I look out the window, peeking through the blinds. I glance at my clock and I notice that I woke up at 6:30am. I groan, wanting to go back to sleep, but realising it's not possible. I grab my book-bag and rush downstairs, grabbing my keys and unlocking the door as I go.

I reach the Weasley's coffee shop as they are opening. Molly lets me in and lets me watch them open and prepare, and I decide that I enjoy watching them open up.

I sit there with my cappuccino and my copy of Paper Towns as people come and go. And then he arrives. The tall, dark-haired boy arrives. I try to ignore him, but I notice he is wearing black skinny jeans, a white button-down shirt and a leather jacket over it, and finally, a thin-looking brown-black scarf.

I catch his eye as he passes my table. His foot catches onto my book-bag and he trips, spilling his coffee across my table and I quickly jerk my book out of the way as mocha creeps its way across the glass top of the table.

"Oh, god, I'm so sorry," comes his voice. He has a rather tenor-like voice, if he sang. Mine is also quite tenor, but I don't quite remember what my voice sounds like. I shake my head profusely, as if I was saying that it was okay. But it really isn't okay. He spilt his goddamn coffee on my goddamn table!

He stands up straight with a bundle of napkins clenched in his fist. I look at him properly for the first time and observe his messy, curly hair. I suddenly feel rather self-conscious and I nervously flatten my hair against my face over my eyes.

"Are you okay?" I hear him say, and I look up into his bright green eyes, and I feel a surge of annoyance creep through my veins. I nod. I am okay, I try to tell him with my eyes. 

"Do you go to Riddle Hill High?" I hesitate, then nod. He cocks his head. "I haven't seen you around..." I glare at him through narrowed eyes. There is a very good reason for that, I growl at him through my expression. He doesn't seem to catch on, he only sits down at my table. The questions come in rapid-fire succession and I try to keep up. I feel more and more annoyed the more he talks.

"What's your name?" I freeze, and smile reluctantly at him, then shrug. "You don't know your own name?" I tap my foot on the ground a couple of times at look up a David Bowie vinyl on the wall above Harry's head. I realise to myself that I keep forgetting to call him by his name inside of my mind. So I decide to call him Harry. I shake my head again, pointing at my face. "Oh, you don't talk." 

No, I don't. I reply by shooting him a dirty look. He misses it completely, yet again. 

"My name's Harry. Harry Potter," he says. 

Really? I roll my eyes undetectably. He leans towards me across the table, and I jerk backwards, almost upsetting my chair. I snatch up my book-bag and shove Paper Towns into it. I can feel his eyes on my back as I thank Molly and Arthur with a nod and shove the door open distractedly with a quick jerk from my shoulder.

I take a look behind me and shoot Harry's dumb messy, soft-looking hair a filthy look. I don't like him. He is too energetic, too social, and too nice.

I don't like him.

I arrive at the coffee shop early in the morning, sitting down in my usual spot. I hope that I don't see Harry, and I pray to the David Bowie vinyl that he was sitting under. I shake my head to myself, not wanting to think about him.

And yet, he comes. He sits down at my table and orders a mocha. He stares me right in the face and I give him the stink eye, a dirty look that I had perfected last night. He misses it again. God, he's not very observant, is he?

Harry begins to talk to me. I sigh to myself and decide I might as well listen, seeing as it'd be rude and maybe I'd find a reason to dislike him more, or redeem himself in my eyes. After all, he is the only person who has talked to me since the start of high school. I pull out my earphones and put away Paper Towns.

"Yesterday, I found a pretty good book that I lost," I hear him say. I cock my head, putting a (hopefully) curious look on my face.

"Do you want to see it?" I nod, and hold out my hand. He digs around in his backpack for a second, and then fishes out a floppy, dog-eared copy of Miss Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children. I smile, taking the book and flicking through it, remembering the memories of when I first read it. I observe how used it looks, looking for any library markings (which there are none of), and I figure that it is a much-loved book of his own purchase. I look up into his annoyingly green eyes and nod in approval. I hand it back, and his eyes light up.

"You like it?" He says, not unlike an excited child. I nod. "I'm glad you're into literature and books and things like that. I've never met everyone who's read Miss Peregrine's." I look at him in surprise and shrug, as if I was saying that it's nothing. His eyes become glassy as he stares at the front cover of the book. I lean back and dig through my own bag, pulling out The Hobbit by J.R.R Tolkien. I hold it out to him, and he surveys it for a second before smiling.

"I've read it. It's quite good. Have you read the rest of the series?" I hesitate, then nod. I take the book back shyly and place it meticulously in my book-bag.

"Hey, you wouldn't mind at least telling me your name, right?" He asks, pressing his finger on the rim of his cup and spinning it around. I shrug, then hesitate again. I shake my head. No, I wouldn't mind. So I will tell you. I snatch a napkin from the napkin dispenser and take a pen out of my book-bag. I carefully print Draco on it in thick, clear letters. I slide it over to him and his eyes race over it a couple of times, and I figure that he is processing it. He pockets it, and smiles.

"Draco. Nice name." I smile briefly and reluctantly. 

"Are you in my year?" I sigh, and nod. 

"Oh, nice." I glance at him, and I see that he is grinning mischievously. I quickly rise from the table, drinking the last dregs of coffee from my cup, then I snatch up my book-bag and leave. I look back through the window and I see him looking around in confusion. I don't feel bad.

I reach school after a tedious, boring walk. I usually see street cats fighting or old ladies in their gardens, but nothing today except for the Lestrange family, who are an odd bunch, but they lose their fun after a while. 

I rush into school and I try not to think of Harry's mysteriously cheeky look. It is a repeat of Monday. Five periods. Cringe. Hand up. Work. Music. Leave. With breaks in between.

Every. Goddamn. Day. 

I find myself thinking my life is excruciatingly boring, but I shake the thought as I'm walking home. I recall seeing Harry rushing in front of the library and looking for something. Probably me, although I don't want to think about him wanting to see me. I had peeked at him through the arms of the clock and noticed him looking desperately at the library. Now that I think about it, he's not exactly wrong in where I am.

I return home and notice that there is a package on the doormat for me. I pick it up as I unlock the door and walk into the house. I sigh through my nose, and hastily rip the cardboard box open. Inside is a studded leather bracelet and a long necklace with a cross on it. I sigh again, smiling to myself. At least my parents know what I like. I reach inside the box and take out the piece of paper and read it:

Dear Draco,

Your mother and I saw these at a local Hot Topical (or whatever it is called) and thought of you.

We love you and miss you, and we hope you are doing well enough.

Please try and make friends for us this semester.

Love, Father.

I fold up the note carefully in my fingers and rush upstairs into my room, throwing open a drawer under my drawing desk filled with other similarly sized paper. I carefully place this most recent addition on the top of the white pile and stare at it for a moment, feeling an ache of sadness burst through me like a popping bubble.

And then I start to cry. I don't really know why, but I feel my heart lurch and all of a sudden tears start to fall from my eyes. I missed my parents so much. I just wanted them back in my reach where I could hug them.

But they weren't coming back for me until next month. This was important for their careers. And I understand that, but I am so damn lonely. I wipe the tears from my eyes and walk over to my speakers, plugging my phone in with the auxiliary cable and playing Tell All Your Friends by Taking Back Sunday. You Know How I Do bursts from the speakers and I sob harder, throwing myself into my bed. 

I clutch the pillows under my head and scream into them. I feel my voice straining and I stop, covering my mouth. I feel the hot tears creep down my face and I wipe them away angrily.

I decide that it is good to let off steam when necessary. I fall back in my pillows and close my eyes. I feel my body drift off from consciousness, and as I fall asleep, I realise that I may have been too hard on myself.

I wake up the next morning in my clothes. I've woken up early, so I go downstairs with a fresh pile of all-black clothes and shower. When I leave the shower, I find myself thinking about Harry again. Why is he so interested in making me talk to him? Why did he decide to talk to me in the first place? I should be nothing to him, I reason. I don't know why I think about him so much.

I leave the house again with my book-bag, and head over to the coffee shop. I sit down and Molly instantly gives me a cappuccino. I smile at her. I rather like Molly, now. I open Paper Towns again, wishing I could finish the chapter, but I hear a voice come from above me.

"Still reading that, huh?" A body with a horizontally-striped t-shirt lowers itself onto the chair opposite me. I find myself laughing, and I nod. Harry's eyes widen in surprise, and I sigh a little, calming myself down. 

"So, what's up?" I hold up my wrist and lift the necklace around my neck up to show him. He cocks his head, obviously confused. I groan silently, then grab a napkin and a pen from my book-bag. I furiously write, I got gifts from my mother and father.

I hand the napkin over, and he reads it before he pockets it. "What-" I roll my eyes and grab another napkin. They're never home, so it's special when they send me something that tells me they're thinking of me. I scribble. I hesitate before giving it to him. What the heck, I think.

I hand the napkin over to him. "It really is like that for you, isn't it?" He asks quietly. I nod. He cocks his head and looks at me sadly. "Me, too." I look up at him in surprise. I sip my coffee, and he doesn't talk while I do so. I look at him, thank Molly with a smile and a nod, and leave.

I feel suspicious with the way that Harry makes me feel. Like I actually matter. I don't really want to open up to this dude that I just met. It's scary, being vulnerable and everything. I don't want to be open around anyone, especially not him. I just... the only thing that's on my mind is how the hell he has the energy to talk and ask me questions so much.

I walk to school and brace myself for the boring routine of every day.

Cringe. Hand up. Work. Music. Leave.

I arrive at the coffee shop a little late this morning, but I am still earlier than Harry. He takes his place underneath the David Bowie vinyl and he begins to talk to me.

All of a sudden, he pauses. And he begins to absent-mindedly stir his coffee.

I sit, drinking my coffee and observing Harry as he stirs his mocha. He seems to be in a daze, so I snap my fingers in front of his nose. He is startled by my snapping, and he looks up at me. I smile and wave my hand in front of his face.

"Sorry, Draco," he says. "I was just thinking."

I shrug in response, then lean my head on my hands. 

"Don't you wish you could run away? Do you ever wish that you can run away and start it all over?" He asks, leaning forward and staring me in the eyes. I blink, shocked. "That's what I want to do. I just want to get out of here and start over. This life, it's..." he sighs. "It's so repetitive and boring."

I open my mouth, and to my surprise, my vocal chords vibrate and blurt out words. 

"Me, too." My voice comes out quiet, like a whisper, and I cover my mouth with my hands, my eyes searching Harry's widened ones. I wasn't sure if he heard me or only saw my lips move.

"You spoke," he says quietly. He heard me. I remove my hands from my mouth. I nod, pressing my lips together. He leans closer to me. "Can you do it again?"

I shake my head, quickly finishing my coffee while cursing at the David Bowie vinyl above his head. I throw my book into my book-bag and jostle the table with my legs as I hurry to leave the coffee shop. The cups clatter in their saucers and a bit of Harry's mocha splatters onto the table.

I drag my hands down my face as I trip over thin air. God, I'm distracted. I sigh, pushing my book-bag and looking behind me. Harry is still sitting in the coffee shop, staring at the door that is still swinging.

I reach school, but I don't even realise that I arrived until I am at my locker. I'm distracted. I'm never distracted. I'm always level-headed and focused. Why do two words change that? Why does one boy, one that annoys the hell out of me mind you, makes me lose focus?

There he is again. Those annoying green eyes are burnt inside my mind and I can't stop thinking about how they look like the Emerald City, a forest of pines, the greenish algae that would cover the surface of the sea. It's rather poetic, I think. I grab my books and make my way to class.

And another repetition of the cycle. Cringe. Hand up. Work. Music. Leave.

Except with one disruption. As I'm working, my mind wanders. And I reach my music about five minutes later than I usually would. I groan to myself and frown. I've been distracted by the annoying eyes again. 

I stick my earphones in and lean back in my seat, thinking about his eyes. Why do they distract me so? I bite the inside of my cheek and draw blood. I roll my eyes at myself and press a hand against my cheek, noticing that it doesn't hurt.

I think about how I spoke to Harry as I leave school after several more repetitions of the cycle. I think... I think I can trust someone like him. Maybe I should open up a bit to him. After all, he really makes me feel like I can actually do something with my life instead of just playing my ukulele in my room alone and singing songs that'll never be heard by anyone but myself.

I open the door to my house and breathe in the smell of the musty air that flows through the rather large tomb that I call a house. It's a tomb because there is no one here. Their existence has rotted like wood in the rain. 

It is raining, I notice. I turn to the pouring moisture behind me and drop my book-bag on the doorstep. And I make the impulsive decision to walk out into the downpour. 

I raise my eyes to the sky and wish for something better. I stand there for maybe... five minutes at most. And then I return to the house. I towel myself off and change into my pyjamas, even though it is barely four in the afternoon. I lay back in my bed and pick up my ukulele, lazily plucking at the strings in a indecipherable melody.

And the words flow out of my mouth like a river, the rhymes already etched into the air in front of me. A song that comes right from deep down inside me.

(I'm disinclined to tell you how I'm feeling, love /

When I've had enough I'll start drifting away from you (woah-ah-oh) /

Your intentions show through your hooded eyes, love /

I won't drift, drifting away from you)

I stop playing. I realise what has come out of my mouth and I put the ukulele back on its stand. I sit up and try to forget the words. But I can't. I rush to my drawing board and grab a piece of lined paper. I ink the words into the stripped, bleached tree and fold it carefully, placing it in a drawer, separate to that of my drawer full of my parent's notes and letters.

I don't talk. I sing when I want to. I am usually not like this. I write the words, not sing them. 

And I realise that I hate what comes out of my mouth. I want to shut myself out and up. I just want to be alone. Alone. No.

I'm alone and I am like this. I groan out loud, confused, angry, scared. 

DO I WANT TO BE ALONE OR DO I NOT?

I take up the ukulele again, and my chest hurts as I lay my eyes upon the dark wood of its soundbox. I press it against my chest and pluck at the strings again, searching the air in front of me for the right chords, the right words. I smile, and instead play a song that already exists.

I sigh. I'm thinking of him again. I run my fingers up and down the fret board and smile. I think I'm staring to like this dark-haired boy obsessed with literature. I find myself thinking about talking to him, telling him everything, but then I realise, It's not in my character.

I don't like the idea of opening up to him. I just wish I could be something more than what I am; a shut-in, an emo, a menace to society, someone everyone despises, someone everyone ignores.

I just want to run away from here. I'll take up his idea and his hand and run away with him. I begin to grin from ear-to-ear. I'm thinking of him again. He must be sneezing so damn hard right now. I laugh, knowing it was just a superstition.

Maybe I'll ask him what kind of music he listens to tomorrow morning.

I wake up and think about how I talked to Harry yesterday. I grab my clothes from the cupboard, quickly grabbing a nut bar from the pantry downstairs and staggering as I try to pull on my Doc Martens while hopping out the door on one foot. 

I think I can trust him. I want to see him.

I walk slowly to the coffee shop with my book-bag hanging off my shoulder, and I let it bump against my hip as I walk. I feel like I'm acting like a total lunatic. I shove the door to the coffee shop open and give Molly a bigger smile than I usually do. She looks at me in surprise and urges me to sit down. I chuckle a little in satisfaction, and I wait attentively for Harry.

Then I realise what I need to do. I take a napkin and the pen from my book-bag and furiously write, Can I also get a mocha? I hand it to Molly and she nods, winking at me.

I take a sip of my cappuccino and look around. I feel like a goddamn meerkat. Then he finally walks in. I wave shyly to him and, once again, he sits underneath my lord and saviour, David Bowie. I beg the vinyl for good luck. Molly comes over, places the mocha in front of Harry and winks at him.

"This one right here ordered it for you," she says proudly. I blush. He looks at me, then the coffee, and grins widely. I decide I like the way he smiles. Why do I like the way he smiles? I have no idea. I snatch up another napkin and scribble, What kind of music do you like?

He looks at it for a moment, and then laughs. "Making small talk now, are we?" I stick my tongue out at him, and lay out another napkin. More like small write. Shut yourself up.

He takes the second napkin and laughs, putting both of them in him pocket. 

"I like David Bowie, Queen, and a couple of pop punk bands," he tells me. I lean forward, urging him to continue. "I mostly like Fall Out Boy and Twenty One Pilots." I frown. They're not exactly... pop punk. I take another napkin. I like David Bowie and Queen, too. And the others. He takes it, reads it, then puts it in his pocket.

"I'm glad, not many people I know like that sort of music." I shrug.

He then cups his hands around the glass that contains his mocha, and stares into it in a similar daze as he had yesterday. I wave my hand under his nose, and then he begins to talk again.

"I'm glad you've been so observant. I didn't think that I'd ever have someone in my life who'd care enough to buy me a drink," he says sadly, looking up at me. I bite my lip, kind of surprised how easily his heart is exposed to me. He wears his goddamn heart on his goddamn sleeves.

"W-Why did you assume I didn't care?" I whisper, leaning towards him. He puts his elbows on the table and leans in to me too. He looks both surprised and pleased.

"You're so quiet and cold. I didn't think you cared about anything, much less me."

I shake my head, then lift the corners of my mouth in a small smile. "Not always." His elbow slips and his head comes close to crashing down onto the table. I quickly slide my chair back and leave the coffee shop, patting him on the shoulder as I leave.

I am satisfied and deliriously happy as I leave the coffee shop. I talked to him. Twice. Out loud.

I basically float to school, and I don't really notice that I even arrived.

I ride this wave of euphoria through the day, and it energises me. I actually talked to someone. Me! Talking to somebody! I listen to music, but with one earphone out so I can hear what's going on around me. I find myself looking behind me, around me, and I think I'm looking for Harry.

But I don't see him. Maybe it's just that our schedules are completely different. Or he's avoiding me. I hope it's the former. My entire day is filled with day-dreaming, and I just cannot stop smiling. I just... oh.

I feel my face and my mood fall. I forgot. I forgot to work.

The loop is off. Today is the day the space-time continuum goes off-base and I'm going to be thrown into a parallel universe and never see my family again.

I think I'm being overdramatic. No dimension of space-time is going to be ripped open and suck all life into it. It's science-fiction. Well, at least I hope so. I feel around in my pocket for my phone, and I pull it out, remembering the last call I had on it. 

It was about seven years ago. It was a call from my mum, who had been wondering if I was okay and wanted to hear my voice through the phone, which, at the time, was brand-new.

I have not had a call since then. I have no idea what kind of impulsive "tiny voice" has settled into my brain, but my master plan ends up being to give this boy my phone number and giving him access to my personal life and an offer of friendship.

My body moves instinctively, just moving at certain cues. I find myself home after concentrating so hard on Harry goddamn Potter. I unlock the door in full consciousness, and bring myself into the lounge room for the first time in a while. I throw myself down on the dust-free couch and reach for the remote control. I remember how many times I've cleaned this room, but I've never ever relaxed in here.

I switch on the television and it instantly blears a movie I had left in the DVD player some years ago. It is WALL-E, and I instantly sit up and pay good attention. I forgot how much I love this movie. I sigh and cock my head along with WALL-E as he watches Hello, Dolly!. I almost cry at how lonely he looks at Hello, Dolly!, as well as when EVE becomes inactive.

I sigh again and close my eyes as it plays in the background. I love listening to It Only Takes A Moment as I try to sleep.

It is Friday.

I am being more and more impulsive in regards to this relationship. I think I'm getting closer to this strange boy. I think I want to give him my phone number, so I guess that's the mission for this morning.

I wake up as usual, get dressed as usual, and go to the coffee shop as usual. I go and ask, once again, for a mocha for Harry. I sit down and open my book, and then remember. I grab a napkin and scribble my phone number on it. My drink comes early, so I begin to drink it. Harry's drink comes about five minutes after mine, but he is still not here, so I slide the napkin underneath the glass, finish the dregs of my cappuccino, and leave.

I have an odd spring in my step as I walk to school. It feels like I'm skipping as a five-year-old would. My book bag feels lighter, and I'm standing up a little straighter. My hair isn't my eyes the entire time. I'm smiling a little.

Maybe this odd relationship is good for me.

The cycle is different today. Today it is: Cringe. Hand up. Work. Laugh. Work. Leave. I've stopped putting my earphones in every second. I feel better about myself. 

I'm acting like an absolute lunatic. Maybe it's for the better, though.

While I'm walking home, I get a buzz on my phone. I jump, freaked out. I'm not used to that sensation. I fish it out of my pocket and read the notification on my lock screen. It's from Harry.

Hey Draco, it's Harry. Can I come over on the weekend?

He has perfect grammar and punctuation. I exhale approvingly.

Ok, I reply. 

I forget to use a full stop at the end, but I don't care.

Awesome! Where do you live? Huh. I haven't thought about that. I lean against my fence, then look around at my house.

46 Privet Drive. I type back. It shows on my phone that he has seen it.

Oh! You live on my street! He sounds so excited, even through the LED screen.

I laugh a little. Yeah.

Okay then, see you tomorrow!

See you. I turn around and jump over my fence, surprising myself. I look back at it and laugh again. I make my way across the big front lawn, and enter the house. It is technically the weekend now. I don't think my parents will be home this weekend either.

I throw myself on the couch for the second time this week and smile. I reach under the coffee table and take a random DVD out. It is Up. I haven't watched this one in a while, and I don't quite remember what its storyline is.

I groan, pushing myself up and off the couch to get to the DVD player, and practically slam the poor disk into the nook that fits it. I jump and land heavily back on the couch and snatch up the remote, pressing play.

I find myself feeling sleepy as the house lifts off its foundations, and I go and shower before changing into my pyjamas. I walk back downstairs and lie down on the couch with a blanket from my bed. I start to nod, my eyelids drooping, and I can barely keep them open.

I glance at a clock on the wall, and it shows that it is close to eleven in the night. I lie back and close my eyes, and let myself sink into the couch and into a deep sleep.

I wake up with a jolt. My dream is fading away, but I remember Harry starring in it. I look up at the clock, and it is almost ten in the morning.

I remember that Harry is to come soon, and I rush up the stairs and up into my attic bedroom, and throw a bunch of clothes that I think are suitable for a house date onto my bed. I shove my Louder Now CD into the record/cd player with the large speakers. 'What's It Feel Like To Be A Ghost' comes blasting from the large, square speakers that would be better suited for an electric guitar.

I quickly dress myself and then look out the window. Harry is walking down a street, and he just looks so adorable to me that I blush. I think I'm starting to like him more and more.

He is wearing a white button-up shirt under a denim jacket and black jeans with blue Vans. I find myself staring at him as he walks down the street. And then he walks up the path across my front lawn. I quickly throw myself at my speakers and stop 'MakeDamnSure' in the middle of the bridge near the end. I almost fall down the attic ladder as I hear the doorbell ring throughout the house, and I slide down the bannister, landing somewhat gracefully behind the front door. 

I grab the note I had prepared earlier, and hold it up as I open the door.

My mum and dad aren't here, so it's just us two.

Harry looks down at the note and smirks. "Nice greeting."

My shoulders slump and I roll my eyes, but I grin. I wave to him and then wave to invite him in. I start walking up the stairs.

"What, you're not going to give me the tour?" He asks cheekily. I turn around suddenly, stopping in my tracks, and then I poke his nose. I don't know why. I just thought it'd be a fun thing to do. He touches his nose and smiles shyly, and I notice a blush creeping across his face. I shake my head, and then I continue climbing the stairs.

I find myself painfully aware of my steps and my house and the way I am leading him. I open the door to the closet that contains my ladder, and start climbing it.

"This isn't your torture chamber, is it?" I look down at him and bite my lip. I shake my head, but I laugh. I finish the climb and help him into my room. I drag a couple of bean bags into the centre of the room, and he instantly plops down on one of them.

I think... now, I can speak. "T-thank you for coming," I whisper politely. He smiles and leans towards me.

"No problem, Draco." He uses my name, and I feel a flush creeping up my face, but I smile. I see his eyes wandering around my room, and when he spots something he likes, his eyes sparkle. Then his eyes lay on the ukulele sitting on my bed. "Do you play ukulele?"

"Y-yes," I stutter nervously.

"Can you play for me?"

"Sure..." I croak, feeling my heart beating in my throat. I pick it up gently off of my bed and sit back down on my bean bag, legs crossed. I swallow, then position my left ring finger on the third fret of the A string. I strum a C chord, and I realise what my hands and voice want me to play.

Wise men say /

Only fools rush in /

But I can't help falling in love with you /

Shall I stay? /

Would it be a sin /

If I can't help falling in love with you? /

I swallow and sigh, my fingers shaking. I cough and continue, looking up at Harry's too-green eyes, but now I find them rather pleasant.

Like a river flows /

Surely to the sea /

Darling, so it goes / 

Some things, were meant to be /

Take my hand / 

Take my whole life, too /

Cause I can't help falling in love with you /

Like a river flows / 

Surely to the sea /

Darling, so it goes / 

Some things, were meant to be /

Take my hand / 

Take my whole life, too /

Cause I can't help falling in love with you /

Cause I can't help falling in love with you //

I sigh shakily, and look up at Harry, who shuffles closer in his bean bag.

"I didn't know you could sing so well," he whispers, leaning towards me. "You're really talented."

I feel the embarrassment surging through me and I wish I would fold in on myself and disappear. He appears to lean closer to my face, so that our noses are almost touching. I tilt my head a little and jerk back. He grabs my shoulders, and I jump, startled. 

"Please go," I say, tears prickling my eyes. I feel vulnerable and exposed. "J-just... please."

"Draco..." he whispers, sliding a hand up my neck and onto my face. I lean my head into his hand for a second, and then I begin to cry. He wraps his arms around me in a hug, and for a moment, I feel safe and warm. Then I bite my lip and push him off me. 

"Please. Just go," I say defiantly. Harry's face falls and he reaches out to me for barely a second, then gets up. I follow him down and run in front of him to open a door. He walks through, and he turns. He steps closer to me and touches my face again. I suddenly have an urge to step forward and kiss him. I don't understand why. He sighs and turns away, and my face feels cold with the absence of his hand. 

"I'll see you later?" He says, toning it as if it was a question.

I nod. "Y-yeah." He walks down the path and I slowly close the door. When it clicks closed, I lean my back against it and cry. I climb up to my room again, tripping over my feet a little, and I resume the music, hope it'd drown out these thoughts of me wanting to kiss Harry, me feeling my heart thump like a bass drum when he leaned in so close that our noses were touching.

Maybe I'm developing a crush.

I don't go to school on Monday.

Or Tuesday.

Or Wednesday.

I think I'm avoiding seeing Harry. After all, it is my choice whether I go or not, considering I'm alone and not being looked after by my own parents. So I get up off my ass and go to the coffee shop on a quite pleasant Thursday morning.

I gather my stuff and get there as early as I usually would. I look around as Molly opens and sets up, and plop myself down into a booth in the back of the shop. Molly comes over and hands me my cappuccino. She sits down opposite me.

"Hey, Draco," she says quietly. "That boy, Harry. He came in on Monday through to Wednesday asking about you when you didn't show up. What happened?"

I grab a pen out of my bag and a napkin from the napkin holder. I was sick. I explain.

"Come now, Draco. That's a lie, darling," she says, handing me back the napkin. I take it, confused, and then I realise that I'm used to Harry taking it and putting it in his pocket. 

I flip over the napkin. Fine. I embarrassed myself in front of him and I didn't want to see him.

"Hmm," Molly says, handing back the napkin again. "Why do you care what he thinks about what you did? You're so-"

"I sang to him, okay?!" I find myself croaking out loud. Molly looks at me, shocked, and puts a hand on mine. 

"Draco..." Molly puts a hand on my face. "You're so handsome and talented. You needn't be embarrassed over something that you're good at."

"Molly, I," I clear my throat and speak quietly to her. "I think I may be... I don't know. I think I may like Potter more than I want to. Like, not as a friend, more like..."

"You have a crush?" Molly smiles. Dimples appear in her cheeks, and I find myself blushing and nodding. 

"At least I think it's a crush," I whisper. "He's just... He makes me feel like I actually am a Person, not a Hypothetical Being."

Molly moves her thumb across my cheek. "Well, maybe you should do something about it?" She suggests. I shrug.

"I just..." I take a deep breath. "I don't know why I feel this way, I mean, isn't it wrong? To feel this way about someone? My heart beats so fast and I sweat so fiercely, I can't even breathe!" I sigh, chewing the inside of my cheek. I notice the steaming cup of coffee in between my elbows, and drop a hand to take a sip. 

"It's not wrong to feel this way about anyone. Why do you think I'm married to Arthur?" She laughs a little. "The only wrong thing about this is that you're not acting on your feelings. You could be consumed by it and you'd go crazy."

I look her into her periwinkle-blue eyes. "Maybe one day," I say.

"It better be soon," she smiles again, then stands up and leaves my table. I stick my earphones in my ears and turn up the volume as I whip out a book and take a sip of my coffee. I glance up when I see the door open in my peripheral vision.

It's him. I bury my nose in my book again and try and hope to god he doesn't see me. He walks to the table that we'd usually sit at, and he gets his mocha without hesitation.

I go to school, which is pretty uneventful. I don't really remember half of what I'm supposed to do, my thoughts are so consumed with this boy. As I'm walking out of the front gates, I hear my name being called. I turn, and see Harry running across the courtyard towards me.

"Hey, Draco!" He exclaims, and I sigh, trying to steady my heartbeat. 

"Hello, Potter," I try to smile. It doesn't seem to work. "What's up?" I try again.

"Oh, nothing much. I'm just trying to figure out what made you make me leave early last weekend," He says it so casually, and I almost spill all my secrets to him, but I bite back my reckless tongue.

"It's nothing against you," I assure him quietly. "I got embarrassed by the fact that I sung a love song to you when I... let's say. Barely know you." Immediately, I wish I could take back those words, because Harry's pretty green eyes darken with frustration.

"Barely know me?" We're crossing a street, and Harry grabs my arm to help me across. "The only reason why you barely know me is because you refuse to get to know me! I've been trying so damn hard to get past those walls, but you selfishly refuse to let me into your life!" He's angry now.

"Potter, I-"

"See, you don't even use my first name anymore," he bites his lip and runs a hand through his somehow fortunately messy hair. "Look. I like you a lot. But there's something inside of you that's refusing to let you like me ba-"

"You're wrong about that," I interrupt firmly. He looks at me weirdly. I blush. "Maybe, just maybe, I really do want to open up to you. But I'm scared of what you might find."

"I'm not going to judge you for anything," he says softly. "That'd be awful. Besides, I just... I don't know how to explain this."

I look at him suspiciously. "Explain what?"

"Look, it doesn't matter," he says, not answering my question. "I pushed you too hard on the weekend and I'm sorry."

"I-It's okay," I stutter. He looks at me expectantly. We've stopped in front of my house. "Well, then, goodbye," I say. I walk all the way up the front path, unlock and open the front door before Harry slams his hand next to my head, stopping me in my tracks. I turn around slowly and look up into his eyes. His bright green eyes. 

"Tell me something," He says quietly. "What are you thinking?"

His face is uncomfortably close to mine, and I feel my heart thumping loudly and dangerously hard in my chest. I press a hand over it and try to breathe. I whip around and quickly shut the door, running to the window and checking outside. He is walking slowly down the front pathway with his hands in his pockets. He turns and walks down the street, and I finally sigh with relief. 

I sink into the couch and stare at the blank TV. After about half an hour, I hear my phone buzz and I pick it up.

It's Harry. I'm sorry about this afternoon. Do you want to go out for sandwiches?

I sigh again. Sure.

Okay. Meet you at your gate in a minute. I shut off my phone and smile. I grab a small sum of money as I quickly rush out to my front gate and open it as I see Harry coming down the street. 

"Hey," he grins. I smile hesitantly back.

"Hello," I say quietly. He holds out his arm to me, so I hook my elbow around his and then flinch, realising what I just did. "Sorry!" I croak. Harry just laughs, and begins to walk.

"It's okay," he says, jerking his arm away from mine with a bit of hesitation. I feel an ebb of frustration and I slide my hand down his arm and clasp his hand in mine. He looks down at me in surprise, and I blush. He squeezes my hand and shifts his hand to position his fingers to slide in between my own fingers.

"A-ah," I breathe, moving my body closer to his. It suddenly got really cold. I feel myself shivering against his body. I can feel his breath on my ear. 

"Subway!" He suddenly exclaims, and I notice that we've arrived at the sandwich store. We enter, and a blast of warm air overwhelms me. He lets go of my hand and turns to me. "What would you like?"

"I don't know," I say, and look up at the menu board. "You get me something," I offer. Harry nods excitedly and begins to order. I don't really pay attention because I am confused by the brightness and loudness of the place.

He hands me a half-unwrapped sandwich. I look at him, and he looks back at me expectantly. I open my mouth slightly, then take a bite. I chew for a moment, and I don't find anything special about it, but I smile at Harry, whose eyes sparkle as I stretch my mouth to show my apparent delight. I continue to eat, and Harry joins me. 

I finish after him, and we both rise as soon as I am finished. He grabs my hand again and we start to walk, hand-in-hand home again. As we reach my gate, I slow and stop. Harry turns around and walks back towards me.

"What's wrong?"

"It's just..." I take a breath. "I've never had so much fun as I've had with you," I confess. "Thank you so much for... everything." 

"It's okay," he says quietly. 

I suddenly find my hands are lifting themselves and placing themselves on Harry's shoulders. My feet tense and I stand up on the tips of my toes, and I kiss him gently on the cheek. I back away a step, and he touches the place where my lips had touched his skin. 

He blushes and smiles, and I back into my fence, almost tripping over it. I push it open with a shaking hand and smile back at him.

I walk into the house and go back to the window and watch him go. I grin to myself, but it fades suddenly and suddenly wish I had moved my lips maybe two inches to the right. I cover my eyes and groan. These thoughts.

This doesn't seem to be just a fickle crush anymore.

I sit opposite Harry, who sips his mocha quietly. I find myself staring at his face and he looks up at me, cuing me to look away in a hurry. He puts a hand out and gently touches mine. 

"Draco, you're staring," he smiles a little. Crap. He noticed. 

"Sorry," I apologise. He runs a thumb across one of my fingers and goosebumps erupt all over my arm. I jerk my hand away and place it on top of my coffee cup. 

I lean forward and look Harry in his eyes. "Staring contest?" He asks mockingly. I laugh and then bite my lip, remembering how much I just wanted to surge forward and kiss those pink lips of his. I shake my head in response and grab my book bag, standing up. I hesitate.

"Hey, Harry," I say. He looks up at me. "Do you want to walk to school with me today?" He grins and finishes his coffee, then stands up. We leave the coffee shop together for the first time. 

"Can you tell me where you hide during breaks?" He asks. 

I nod. "Meet me in front of the library after second period."

"O-Okay?" Harry says, and I walk off to my locker. I smile to myself as I reach for my books, feeling satisfied with the way I tried to get closer to Harry.

I reach class early, as usual, and I sit and read until the class fills up when the bell rings and the teacher walks in. He starts roll call, and when my name is called, I answer out loud for the first time since primary school.

"Here," I call. The entire class turns to the back of the room where I sit. A few girls have their mouths open, and the others are whispering. The boys are goggling at me and I instantly wish I had kept my mouth shut. Even the teacher looks shocked.

I endure the second period and I run excitedly to the library building. Harry is standing outside, and he smiles when he notices me. I don't say a word when I reach him, and jerk my head towards the library. He follows me into the upstairs section of the library, and I wave to one of the librarians as I climb the stairs up into the attic.

"Another torture tower?" I hear him say. I laugh.

"No," I reply, and I lead him through the dark-ish room and into the corner next to the clock. He sits down in one of the spare bean bags and watches me sit down opposite him. We sit in a slightly awkward silence.

"Truth or dare?" He says suddenly. I look at him in confusion. "Truth or dare?" He repeats.

"Uh... truth?" I say uncertainly.

"What's your sexuality?" He asks immediately. 

I hesitate, and then decide to answer. "I'm... I-I'm gay," I say quietly. I've known for a long time, I just didn't bother to come out to my parents or to anyone else. "I think I j-just came out to you," I add.

"O-Oh," Harry stutters. He blushes, and looks away.

"I guess it's my turn," I say, feeling confident that it's just us two and nothing really matters at this point. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Do you have a crush on anyone?" I ask, and his face becomes even more red. 

"Y-Yeah," he says, obviously flustered. I'm curious, because he doesn't elaborate. I shuffle closer to him and I feel like my curiosity is going to betray me.

"Who is it?" Wow, I'm nosy.

"Y-You know, I'm not really sure if it's a crush or just... you know. A nice feeling towards them," He uses a gender-neutral pronoun, and I become almost too curious. "I mean, when I see them, my heart just skips a beat and I just... I feel so happy that I know them. Although, they make me feel pretty self-conscious."

"Th-That's a crush, Harry," I say quietly. I hesitate before asking, "Harry, who is it?"

He sighs, and shuffles closer with his bean bag. He puts a hand on my cheek, and the other on my waist. His eyes flicker down to my lips, and he bites his bottom lip. And then he leans in and kisses me.

It's really slow, and he tilts his head to get his nose out of the way. I shiver. I don't really know what to do. I don't yet understand why people like kissing so much, but when Harry moves back with a small noise coming from his lips sliding back, I want him to continue. His hands drop and I feel cold with the absence of his touch.

"Hmm," he blushes and laughs softly. I look at him in shock. I fell in love with him. It's not just a crush. I full on fell in love with this boy. He shuffles back a little, his face entirely red. He gets up, and ruffles my hair as he passes me to leave the library attic.

Before he walks down the stairs, I turn around. "Harry."

"W-What?" He asks, stuttering.

"That was my first kiss, you know," I tell him. He turns around, and I can see his glowing smile from my bean bag.

"I'm glad to be of service," he says softly. He leaves.

I press my shaking fingers to my mouth, still feeling the weird pressure of his lips on mine. I have a bad urge to chase after him and kiss him so hard he doesn't remember his own name, but I'm too shy to.

I fall back in my bean bag, still shaking. Wow.

The next day, I'm sat in the library attic. I wasn't expecting him to come, but he does. Later than me, much later, probably closer to the end of the break. He seems embarrassed as he walks over to sit next to me. When I see his face, I remember when he kissed me and I just flare up, wishing he'd leave.

"Hey, Draco," he says quietly. I smile at him. "Are you not talking to me again?" He asks.

I sigh and close my book. "I am talking to you. I just feel rather... embarrassed, you know, about yesterday."

"Why?" He looks worried. "Did I do something wrong?"

I don't answer. He tenses, and he looks a bit upset. Then he sits up. "Do you mind if I-" he gets interrupted by the bell, and I silently groan. He gets up and begins to leave.

"I-I love you," I whisper. I clap my hands over my mouth as he turns.

"What did you say?" He asks. 

I shake my head. "You'll find out soon enough," I say teasingly. He shakes his head in disbelief and leaves the attic. 

I spend the rest of the day thinking about how I told him that I love him. He didn't hear it properly, sure, but I said it to him.

After school, he finds me and chases after me. I don't ignore him, per se. He is out of breath and trying to say something.

"Draco, wait," he calls as I open the door to my house. I stop and turn around to talk to him. He runs down the path and stops right in front of me.

"What's wrong?" I ask, and I feel stupid. Of course there's something wrong. When is there ever something right? "Wait, come in," I offer, holding the door open. He walks through and I go in and shut the door behind me.

"Draco, I've been thinking," He starts, catching his breath. "What... what is this relationship? What are we? I'm just so confused about everything we've been through and all I want to do is get an answer from you."

I hesitate. "It's... whatever you want it to be, I guess." 

Harry smiles, like he's been waiting for this his entire life. "Well, I want it to be this." He grabs my shoulders and presses me against the door, then kisses me, hard. He breaks away and I stare at him in surprise. He looks at me expectantly, and I feel shaken to the core.

I put my hands on his shoulders and lean in for another kiss, and he immediately reciprocates. We stand there by my door for a few moments, just kissing.

"What did you say? Up in the attic I mean," he asks against my mouth.

I smile. "I can't tell you that just yet."

"What? Why?" He looks hurt.

"Because," I say, trying my best to tease him. "You have to say it to me first."

"How am I supposed to tell you something I don't know?" 

I laugh pretty hard at that. "You don't have to know it just yet, but I'll know."

"I- you-" he sighs, rolling his eyes. "Please just tell me?"

I feel bad about keeping the secret, after all, it is a petty thing to keep from him. So I reconsider. 

"Fine. Close your eyes." He complies, and I gently press my lips to the skin just under his jaw, then I stand up on my tip-toes and put my mouth next to his ear. "I love you," I tell him, and I have to look away because I am honestly embarrassed. 

"I love you, too," he whispers, kissing the top of my head. He lifts his other hand with his little finger sticking out. I stare at it for a second. I haven't done this since primary school. I wrap my own little finger around his, and he lights up like a Christmas tree. "Boyfriends?"

I snort a little. "Maybe 'boyfriends' can be our 'always'," I make a reference to The Fault In Our Stars, and Harry snorts too. I think he got the reference. I sigh. "Boyfriends. Honestly, Harry, that's the worst idea you've had. It sounds awful," I cross my arms.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he agrees, slightly disappointed. "I would've thought you'd be all for clichés." I look at him with eyebrows raised.

"Not really. I hate them," I turn away from him. "I just have to live through them with my cynicism." I walk into the lounge room and throw myself into the couch.

"You're not cynical at all," he protests, plopping down beside me.

I turn towards him with a frown on my face. "What makes you say that?"

"You don't always have self-interested motives," he says. "That situation with your phone number. You obviously didn't feel comfortable with me having that kind of power in my hands, yet you still gave it to me."

"Uh," I say stupidly. "Well, I mean. I liked you." He looks at me, not replying. 

"Do you want to watch a movie?" He asks finally. I nod, and get off the couch, grabbing the DVD for Much Ado About Nothing.

"This one?" I show him the DVD case.

"Yes, Shakespeare!" He looks excited. I laugh at his puppy-like bounce.

"And remember, no clichés. You want to put your arm around me and make out with me during the movie, just goddamn do it. No hesitation, no meekness, okay?" He laughs quietly.

"Then hurry up and get back here," he pats the couch next to him. I bite my lip and put the DVD in the DVD player, grabbing the remote for both the player and the TV. I sit myself down on the couch next to Harry and snuggle up into him, and he puts an arm around my shoulders.

He takes the remote for the player out of my hands and presses play on the movie. The movie begins, and I suddenly feel nervous. I'm sitting and watching a movie with this boy that I just fell in love with over the span of two, maybe three weeks. I realise I'm really, really freaking nervous. I look up at him and he's got his eyes fixed on the screen. I can sense that he is uneasy too.

"We should both relax a bit," I say to him, and he nods stiffly. "Relax," I repeat, touching his face gently. He shifts a bit, and I can feel him relaxing at my touch. 

"You're making it difficult to relax," he says, looking at me sideways. I blush, and he grins. I stretch my body and then lie down with my head in his lap. I feel his hands creep up and slip my beanie off my head, then his fingers intwine themselves through my hair. He starts stroking my hair away from my face, and I find myself staring up at him.

He's looking at the movie, and rightfully so. There's a movie on, so watch it. I close my eyes as he continues to stroke my hair.

"Harry," I say, letting my eyes snap open.

"Hmm?"

"Do you want to stay over tonight?" I ask, putting a hand up to touch his nose.

He looks down at me and hums like he's thinking. "Sure," he says finally, leaning down and kissing my forehead.

"You can sleep in my bed," I tell him, and he chuckles quietly.

"How about you sing me to sleep?" He suggests jokingly, but I nod vigorously. "Really? You would?"

"I mean," I sigh, "it's something new and I just figured out that I love you..."

"Fine then," he stops the movie and pushes me to sit upright. "Let's get ready to sleep and then I can hear you sing."

I couldn't get ready for bed faster than I did before I found myself in bed with Harry. It sounds odd, I know, but leaning against the headboard with him wearing his pyjamas that he retrieved not so long ago from his house is really comfortable.

He picks up my ukulele from the middle of the bed, where I left it. "Here, play something."

"Okay," I smile, feeling confident. I strum a quick F chord to get into tune.

I had a dream the other night /  
About how we only get one life /  
Woke me up right after two /  
Stayed awake and stared at you /  
So I wouldn't lose my mind /  
And I had the week that came from hell /  
And yes, I know that you can tell /  
But you're like the net under the ledge /  
When I go flying off the edge /  
You go flying off as well /

And if we're only here once I wanna live with /

You've got something I need /  
In this world full of people there's one loving me /  
And if we're only here once, I wanna live with you /  
You've got something I need /  
In this world full of people, there's one loving me /  
And if we're only here once, I wanna live with you //

He smiles, closing his eyes. "This is why I love you," he looks at me, his eyes sparkling with something that looks to me like love. I lower the ukulele onto the ground and lean it against the bedside table. When I sit up again, I lean in to kiss Harry. He smiles into the kiss, which makes my heart leap.

I move back and attack him with a hug. He puts his arms around me and holds me, and I snuggle my face against his collarbone. He starts to stroke my hair, and I find that I love it when he strokes my hair.

I look up at him when he stops patting my head, and I see that he's fallen asleep. I reach across and switch off the light on the bedside table, and close my eyes to sleep against the chest of my... my boyfriend.

I smile at that thought.

\----

I see him walking down the stairs, yawning so widely I can see his tonsils. I smile down at the pan of cooking eggs as he sidles up behind me and gently wraps his arms around my waist. He presses his lips to the base of my neck and I shiver. No lips have ever touched the skin there before. I blush. I can't breathe.

"That smells delicious," he whispers. "Aren't you the domestic one?" He presses his lips again and again against the skin of my neck. 

"You're distracting me," I breathe hoarsely. "The eggs are going to burn." Harry rests his chin on my shoulder and laughs, then supposedly watches me cook. When I'm done, I grab the pan's handle and swing it dangerously around so that Harry has to dart out of the way. I put it down on the table on a cork mat so it doesn't burn the wood. 

Harry plonks himself down at a chair and begins loading a place that I gave him. He begins to eat, and I gently scoop a little egg from my plate onto my spoon and hesitantly put it in my mouth. I've never eaten in front of anyone. Harry rolls his eyes at me and throws himself into a chair next to mine, then snatches the spoon from me.

"Say 'aah'," he chuckles. I reluctantly open my mouth and he spoons a large amount of scrambled eggs and bacon into my mouth, gently flicking up any leftover egg that spilled over my lip. 

"I'm not a baby," I pout at him, pushing his hand away. "I can eat just fine by myself."

"No, you can't," he says, laughing.

I growl, but I'm grinning. "Whatever, give me my spoon."

"Fine," he says, reluctantly handing me the spoon. 

And I look at him, and I feel such a large pulse of affection that it hurts my chest. I love him so much and he doesn't even realise. I want him to know how much I just want to be around him, have his company. My first love, first kiss, first boyfriend. I wonder what other "firsts" we could share together.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a comment (first comment, WHOO-HOO!) that said that they'd like a "meet-the-parents" moment, so I decided to write one because I was planning one anyway. Enjoy this epilogue!

They looked a little funny at me. They gave the same funny look to Harry.

I stared back at them, wanting them to say something. Okay, rewind. Basically, what just happened is:

My parents came home to find Harry and me snuggling on the couch together, watching Love, Simon. I had jumped up as Harry turned round and my parents exclaimed that "they were home". I greeted them enthusiastically, and they looked onto the couch at the soft-haired boy who was staring at my parents.

"And who is this, Draco?" My father said, looking Harry up and down as he rose from the couch.

"This is... uh," I stuttered out, not sure how to phrase it. Harry put a hand on my shoulder and smiled encouragingly, and that's all I damn well needed. "This is my boyfriend, Harry."

My mother's eyes practically popped out of her head. "B-boyfriend?" I nodded in response, and Harry dropped his gaze to the floor, sliding a hand down to my waist.

"Draco, son," father started, stepping carefully towards me. "Are... are you...?"

"I'm gay, dad," I said loudly, and Harry snorted quietly at how awkward I sounded. My parents could only stare.

So now, here I am, standing here, Harry's arm protectively around my waist. My mother turned away, and I instantly feel horrible. And then I hear a chuckle. She turns back to us and I see her eyes lit up with joy.

"Draco, honey, this is wonderful!" she says, reaching out to me for a hug. "I'm glad you found yourself." I look up at my father, whose mouth was twitching, and I could tell that he's hiding a smile. I see Harry standing behind me, and I reach out an arm for him to come and join the hug. He hesitantly comes to us, but my mother grabs him in a vice-like grip, and she whispers something in his ear. He pales, and as she pulls back at arm's length, she says: "Come now, I'm only joking," and he smiles. I love his smile.

My father shakes his hand. "I'm Lucius, by the way."

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Malfoy..." Harry says awkwardly, shuffling his feet. 

My dad shakes his head and grins. "It's Lucius," he insists. Harry mutters his name quietly, and dad beams.

"He's a keeper," I hear my mother whispering, her blonde hair falling onto my shoulder as she presses her chin into my shoulder. I laugh at her comment as I watch Harry and my dad talking animatedly about something, probably sport.

"So, how long have you been together?" I hear my dad ask.

Harry looks over to me. "Uh... it's been about a month?" I nod. Yes, that sounds about right.

"Oh god, we were in Michigan!" Mother puts a hand on her forehead. 

I feel myself paling. "Wait, you went all the way to America this time?"

"Yes, unfortunately. Conference," Mum explains. "Sorry, sorry. I know we shouldn't be leaving England all the time."

"It's alright," I say quietly, and Harry looks at me with concern. I shake my head at him. I'm okay, I promise. I kiss my mum on both cheeks, then my dad. "Je t'aime, Mama, Papa," I tell them, and take Harry by the hand. "We're going for a walk now."

"Je t'aime aussi," Dad says. "See you, boys."

I walk out of the house with Harry and smile. "Je t'aime, if you were wondering."

"I don't speak French. Oui?" 

I laugh. "Say: 'je t'aime aussi'."

"Zheh tame aussie," he butchers the pronunciation. 

I shake my head. "I give up."

"What did you say, though?" He asks me curiously.

"'I love you'," I tell him. "I tried to teach you to say 'I love you, too', but you're hopeless."

"Hopeless, huh?" He muses. "Your parents are hopeless."

I hit his arm. "You're on thin ice, boy."

"No, I mean, hopeless romantics. They want so much for you. My parents, well," he sighs. "I live with my aunt and uncle, because my parents passed away."

"Oh. I'm... I'm sorry to hear that," I say quietly.

Harry smiles shyly. "Don't worry about it, after all, I've got your parents now." I blush and turn away. "I like your parents, Draco."

"I like 'em too," I say wryly.

Harry laughs, and it reverberates in my chest. "I hope you do." We arrive at a park, and we sit down on a bench. There is a small jazz band busking nearby, and I nod my head to the beat as I sit down awkwardly beside Harry. But, insistently, he grabs my waist and pulls me onto his lap. I blush, again, and cover my face. Harry strokes my hair away from my face and kisses me. I sigh and rest my arms on his shoulders as he gently takes my waist in his hands and holds my body. I pull away from the kiss, and the band starts playing a slower, more relaxing song. Harry gets up and holds his hand out. I take it, and he pulls my up to my feet, then he replaces his hands onto my hips, and I put my hands on his shoulders, and then he starts to sway us, and I suddenly realise; We Are Dancing. He turns us slowly in a circle, and I pull myself closer to him, my hands now on his biceps. We are practically cuddling now, and over Harry's shoulder, I see the trumpet player grinning into his trumpet. I bury my face in Harry's shoulder, taking in the scent that I've grown to love more than I used to.

It's been a month, but I really hope this lasts longer.

\----THE END----


End file.
